


I'll Follow the Sun

by RidleyTDR (TheWriterEs)



Category: The Beatles
Genre: But we all knew that, F/M, Gen, George Harrison is a sexy babe, John is a jerk, POV Original Female Character, Paul is a man-slut, Ringo is a cutie, Sorry if you don't like that, a lovable jerk, we knew that too
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-27
Updated: 2016-03-29
Packaged: 2018-05-16 18:16:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5835892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWriterEs/pseuds/RidleyTDR
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alice Harper is used to life not turning out how she wanted. Her mother was gone, her father was in jail (again), and – oh yeah – she’s somehow traveled back in time to 1961. How is she supposed to get home if there’s no one to help her? And will she even want to go home after meeting the ones who can?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ain't She Sweet

"Damn it!" I growled, kicking the pale yellow wall of my kitchen. My father had called me, letting me know that he was, once again, in police custody. In my sixteen years of life, he'd been arrested and incarcerated for at least half of that.

What was I supposed to do now? My mom had gotten fed up with my dad's stupidity and had left almost three years ago, leaving me behind. How was I supposed to pay the bills, or get food? Gah! I kicked the wall again in my anger, and whimpered in pain when I remember I wasn't wearing shoes. Damn it.

Well, even though Dad wouldn't be coming home tonight, I still needed to make myself some food. I walked over to the counter and stood on my tiptoes, trying to reach the overhead cabinet, to no avail. I wasn't very tall - only about five foot one - but my dad was a giant and tended to put things on the highest shelf. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. Damn it!

I stood there, grumbling to myself when I finally realized that I was unable to reach the box of unopened noodles that sat on the top shelf, taunting me, and so I clambered on top of the kitchen counter to reach my prized. Victory! I grinned to myself, and almost slipped of the counter when I heard the house phone ring. Instead, I just fell onto my bum and slid off the counter ungracefully, scowling as I did so.

“Hello,” I said, my voice a little tight. What can I say? I was super annoyed today.

“Hi, Alice, dear,” a warm voice said, and I found myself smiling just a little bit at the sound of it. “It’s Mrs. Henrickson from down the street. Honey, do you want me to bring anything over?”

If I had to describe Mrs. Henrickson in one word, it would be _badass_. This little old lady lived by herself because she never had kids and her husband died almost twenty years ago, so she just decided to become the neighborhood grandma. Sad to say, I was closer to her than I was to either of my own parents.

“Yes, please,” I said, looking down at the box of pasta in my hand. “I don’t want to actually set the kitchen on fire again.”

She laughed heartily, probably remembering that the last time my dad was arrested – probably a year or so ago – I had set the stove on fire trying to grill chicken.

“Alright, sweet pea, how does some lasagna sound? I have some apple pie, too, if you want any of that.”

“I do like pie,” I admitted, tossing the box into the wire trashcan at my side. “Thanks, Mrs. Henrickson, you’re pretty awesome.”

“Believe me, sweetie, I know.”

I hung up the phone and stared at my empty kitchen. Dad had taken the car this morning, which probably meant that it was in impound at this very moment. Well crap. I sat down at the table, thinking of how I was going to get to school tomorrow if I didn’t have a car that I could drive. There was no way I was walking, it was the middle of January in North Dakota, and I would freeze my but off if I walked.

I drummed my fingers on the table. Well, this was a dilemma. I stood up, mentally shaking myself. I needed something to drink.

I opened our fridge and pulled out the milk. Seeing that the expiration date was three days ago, I sighed and poured it down the drain before tossing the carton into the trashcan. I returned to the fridge and grinned when I saw that we still had half a bottle of Coke laying on its side in the very back. I pulled it out and set it on the table before turning my gaze to the overhead cabinets. Damn. All the glasses were on – you guessed it – the top shelf.

I groaned in annoyance, and pulled myself onto the counter to grab a glass, my fingers lightly gripping at the shelves, as I stood on the wooden counter in my sock-clad feet. I had one hand holding onto a glass and the other still on the shelf when I heard the doorbell ring. I tried to lower myself down, but ended up falling to the floor, smacking my head quite painfully on the tile –

And then I woke up, in bed.

What in the actual hell?

I sat up slowly, wincing at the pain in my head. That was still there, then. Had I dreamed the entire thing? Was I going to walk downstairs and find my dad sitting at the kitchen table drinking a pot of coffee? As I carefully got out of bed, I realized that I was most definitely not in my room.

The light was dim, but bright enough that I could see my surroundings somewhat clearly. The décor was somewhat my taste, but it wasn’t my room at home. For one, the room was too big. Two, I most certainly didn’t live in a studio apartment, which is what I had found myself in. I don’t think I even need to give a third reason. There was a calendar on the wall across from my – er, the – bed, and I walked over to it curiously. It wasn’t anything special, not like the Elvis calendar I had got from my dad for my birthday, just a plain black and white calendar. It proclaimed the date as January 5th.

I sighed in relief. That was good; it was still the same day then. However, upon closer inspection, I saw that the year was completely wrong. Clearly printed right next to the month was the year, 1961.

Oh shit.

Had I been drugged and brought to some sicko’s roleplaying fetish apartment?

I managed to calm myself down enough so that I no longer felt like I was going to vomit, but I was still pretty shaken. I slowly walked around the room, noticing the door that led to the bathroom was open, revealing no one. I was alone here.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something lying on the breakfast bar that connected to the kitchen counter in one corner of the room. I walked over, a little curious. I picked the object up, a manila envelope, how original. Inside were a birth certificate with footprints, and a driver’s license and passport, the latter two bearing the same face. Narrow, with round green eyes and long blonde hair. I stared at it in utter shock.

That was my face.


	2. Another Girl

Panic shot through me, making my stomach and throat go tight. It was a hot, frantic feeling.

What was going on here? Where was I? Oh, gosh…

I ran a hand through my slightly tangled blonde hair, still holding the ID in my other hand.  _Wendy Alice Carver_  was printed neatly beneath my picture. The name was almost right (my full name was Wynter Alice Harper), the birthdate (January 2nd) was right – even though the year was completely wrong – and I was unnerved at how someone could get such authentic looking identification for me.

I dropped them on the table and cautiously walked over to a window on the wall across from me, covered by a dark curtain. I pulled the fabric back and peered out the glass.

Shit.

This was definitely not in North Dakota. I didn't even think I was still in America! The city spread out below me was one that I had seen in movies, on postcards, and in a tiny painting my mother had taken with her when she ducked out.

I was in London.

I don't know how long it took me to come to terms with being in the city – and apparently in the past, as well – but I suppose I always was pretty good at adapting to strange situations. I guess when you have a family as screwed up as mine, you just get used to things like this. Well, not time travel, but still.

I had gone out, sacrificing my image as a sane member of society and asked what year it was, and always received the same answer: 1961.

Crap, crap, crap.

I still didn't know how I had ID and everything with my name and picture on them, but I was a little too preoccupied with the fact that I had  _time traveled_  to really care about something so trivial. There was one question above all that weighed heavy on my mind. Just how did I travel back in time? And why was I in England, of all places?

I returned to my studio apartment (or flat, if I wanted to sound like I belonged here) and collapsed on my bed, feeling weary. What was I supposed to be doing here?

I was interrupted from my thoughts by a knock on my door. I sat up cautiously as the knock came again, and a female voice (heavily doused in a British accent) called out.

"Alice, open up, you twat!"

Well, they did know my name, so I suppose it couldn't hurt to see who it was – and just how they knew me. I slowly walked over to the door, as if I were in a dream, and opened it, revealing a pretty dark skinned girl with a wild mane of black curls pulled back in a braid. She was taller than me, naturally, and was wearing a lovely floral dress.

"About time," she grumbled when I opened the door. Without waiting to be invited inside, she pushed her way past me and into my flat. "You look like death warmed over, Yank."

I shut my door and turned to face her, my arms crossed over my chest. I knew I looked like crap – I hadn't put on makeup, my hair was a mess, and I had thrown on the first thing I saw in the small closet adjacent to my bed – but she didn't have to be so blunt about it.

"Well, I-" I tried to talk, but she held up a hand.

"Uh-uh, I know you're still upset about Rupert, but that doesn't mean you can shut yourself away like this." She gave me a sympathetic look. "Let me help you."

I bit my lip, determining what I should tell her. Obviously, she was someone that I knew pretty well – at least in this life, I did – so she would more than likely know if I wasn't acting like myself. Finally, I decided that telling the truth couldn't hurt.

Well. Maybe I would get locked in a padded room, but it was worth a shot, right? Right?

I sighed.

"I'm not…" I trailed off, trying to think of how I would explain this to her. "I don't know you. I don't know how I got here." I eyed her reaction. "And the last time I checked, I was in 2013."

She narrowed her eyes slightly, watching me. Finally, she spoke.

"Are you drunk?"

I spluttered.

"I am sixteen! No, I'm not drunk!"

She was still watching me closely, reminding me of a bird in the way that she tilted her head.

"You're really not joking, then?" I shook my head. "Well, this is gear then!"

I blinked. Not the reaction I was expecting.

"Gear? You think this is cool?"

She nodded enthusiastically.

"Absolutely," she declared. "You're from the future! By the way, what did happen to Alice?"

I shrugged helplessly.

"I really have no idea," I told her with honesty. "I just woke up here and saw the ID over there with my name on it. My name actually is Alice, by the way. Wynter Alice Harper."

The other Alice's friend wrinkled her nose.

"Well," she walked forward, her right hand thrust out, "I'm Sandra, your new best friend. Let's figure out what's going on, yeah?"

* * *

I liked Sandra. She was pretty easy to get along with, and she believed me about being a weird time-traveling person, so she was okay in my book.

She took me to a little café in the city – one of the cheaper places that tourists avoided but the locals apparently loved – and we both bought ourselves some lunch.

"So," she said in between bites of a sandwich, "what's 2013 like, Future Alice?"

I shot her a look over my mug of cocoa.

"Just Alice," I said, not for the first time. "And, it's pretty different, I guess. Music is different, clothes are a lot different, although some people like the old stuff because it's hipster – don't ask – and, well, I dunno…" I trailed off.

"What about you?" Sandra asked me.

I looked at the table, tracing the wood grain with one finger.

"Not much to tell."

She gave me a look, and I sighed.

"Alright, fine, fine," I grumbled, and she smirked a little bit. "I'm from North Dakota, I'm pretty sure I'm an only child. My mom left when I was thirteen," I added at her curious look, and she nodded, motioning with her hand for me to continue. "My dad's been in jail a lot, I lost count a long time ago. He was just arrested when I got poofed here. Um, I like Elvis and Frank Sinatra, I love Disney movies, my favorite color is green, and I still don't know what I'm doing here." I shrugged. "Ta-da."

"Alice – my Alice – is from California," Sandra informed me. "I still don't know how you ended up here, either, but chances are that she's where you were. Was it a body swap, do you think?"

I thought about it for a moment, before shaking my head.

"No," I said slowly. "When I woke up, I was still wearing my clothes." I had been wearing nothing special, just jeans and a plain blue t-shirt with socks, but I guess this meant that I was still in my own body. Weird concept.

Sandra hummed in thought.

"We have plans for tonight," she said out of the blue, catching me by surprise. At my questioning look, she added, "My Alice and I were going into Liverpool today to visit my cousins and spend a night out on the town. I understand if you don't want to go-"

I cut her off.

"Nah, we're still going. I don't want to ruin any of your plans."

She smiled at me gratefully, and we left the café.


	3. Act Naturally

“It smells like fish,” I complained quietly, leaning in close to Sandra as we walked so her two cousins – both dark skinned and impossibly tall boys with killer cheekbones – wouldn’t overhear us. “Why does it smell like fish?”

She nudged me a bit with her shoulder.

“We’re closer to some docks,” she mentioned. “And fish and chips shops. Loads of them around.”

I wrinkled my nose in distaste. I was never very fond of fish, and the smell now was slightly overwhelming. Bleh.

Sandra’s cousins were pretty fun guys, I guess. We went out for lunch upon our arrival before stopping by their house to greet Sandra’s aunt and uncle. They had apparently met the other Alice – and boy, did it sound weird to say that – and so they were very nice with me, asking how my schooling was going, and for updates on my parents in California.

I had asked my newfound friend for her Alice’s background before we even left for Liverpool, so I wasn’t completely in the dark about some of the things we talked about. Apparently, Alice Carver was some sort of genius, and her parents had sent her away to some weird school for smart kids in London.

“Not university,” She’d explained, “just an advanced curriculum.”

The school was currently on winter break, and wouldn’t resume until next week, but I still felt my stomach tie itself into knots at the thought of going there. School wasn’t difficult for me, per say, but I was often distracted by my home life and financial situation to bother doing my homework.

I absently raised my hand to my mouth, chewing lightly on the side of my thumb nail, a bad habit I’d thought I’d stopped years ago along with biting the inside of my cheek. I suppose the stress caused me to relapse.

“Here we are, ladies,” The older of the cousins – I think his name was either Dennis or Derik; I’m terrible with names - announced, extending his arms with a flourish at an unassuming building on the corner of the street.

It didn’t look all that different from the other buildings surrounding it, but I supposed that the boys – the older one _was_ Dennis, I’m sure of it – would know better than me. The letters above the doorway proclaimed it _The Cavern Club_.

Just the atmosphere was intoxicating. Live music was being played on a small stage, and there were a few posters for local bands plastered to the walls. I grew up listening to whatever my mom and dad listened to – Elvis, Beach Boys, Michael Bublé, Cyndi Lauper, and Frank Sinatra. Some of the stuff being played – as well as the dudes playing them – were vaguely familiar, but not enough for me to actually recognize them.

The current band ceased their playing and gave a group bow. I looked to Sandra with an eyebrow quirked.

“Who were those guys?” I asked her. She looked over the top of my head and squinted through the cigarette smoke that filled the club towards the four young men as they exited the stage.

Elbowing the younger of her two cousins, she asked him, “Hey, Michael, who were those blokes?”

He followed her gaze and smiled upon seeing the four men.

“Ah, The Beatles,” he said. “Gear band, they are. Been playing for a few years. Changed the name a bit, though.”

The Beatles. Now that her cousin had said the name, I definitely knew who they were, even if I didn’t know much about them. I frowned. Weren’t all but one of them dead or something in my time? I honestly had no idea.

Sandra’s gaze lingered on one of the members for longer than was necessary. The guy looked to be barely older than us – she was seventeen, her cousins eighteen and twenty – and had pretty, almost feminine, eyes and eyebrows. Not exactly my type. The guy who’d been drumming was fairly attractive as well, and his hair was swept back in an Elvis-like style to match the others. The third guy looked like a bird, albeit a handsome one. But it was the fourth band member that caught my attention.

He was skinny, and had a long, narrow face. He was all sharp cheekbones and large, dark eyes with thick brows and a Cupid’s bow mouth. He looked a lot younger than his three comrades. My stomach fluttered slightly as I caught a good look at him, and those chocolate eyes met mine briefly from across the room, and he lowered his head a little bashfully.

My friend nudged me a bit.

“Someone caught your fancy, then?”

I blushed, looking away and sipping my drink (just some club soda with lemon, I wasn’t too fond of hangovers).

“Sandy, don’t embarrass the poor girlie,” Michael said with a smirk. “Besides, she needs to snog someone better than that Rupert fellow you were telling me about earlier. Or that Jacob bloke who-“

Sandra cut him off with a glare. Dennis and Michael exchanged looks with some pretty girls at the bar, and excused themselves to go talk to them. Sandra sighed and stood up, thrusting her small purse into my arms.

“Protect the table, please.” She said. “I’m going to the loo.”

“I, uh, okay,” I said, and she weaved her way gracefully through the sea of bodies crowding the establishment.

“Hullo.” Came a voice from behind me in one of the thickest accents I’ve ever heard in my life (aside from my grandmother’s Dutch).

I glanced over my shoulder, my grip on Sandra’s purse tightening unconsciously. It was that young guy I had seen earlier, and up close, he was even cuter. He grinned at me nervously, his teeth slightly crooked and fang-like, but it worked on him, in an unconventional way.

I blinked. Why was he talking to me? I wasn’t anything special to look at, really. I’m not going to act all Bella Swan and go as far as saying I’m plain, but I could see at least a dozen other girls much prettier than me.

“Um,” I managed. “Hi.”

He looked slightly awkward and opened his mouth a couple times, as if he didn’t know quite what to say. Finally, he said, “May I sit?”

I nodded my head at the chair next to me.

“Sure, yeah. Go ahead.”

He gave me another smile – I swear my insides melted when he did that – and took a seat next to me, extending one of his long fingered hands.

“I’m George Harrison,” he introduced himself, and I took his hand.

“Alice,” I said, then added, “Carver. Alice Carver.”

“I don’t think I’ve seen you hear before,” he mentioned. “I recognized your friends, though. The boys,” he added. “They come in every Friday night.”

I smiled. I kind of figured that for myself when they mentioned their favorite club, but George would probably be embarrassed if I told him that.

“Are you from here?” I asked him, honestly curious. Just like the U.S., the accents in England varied upon location.

He nodded.

“Yeah, so are John and Paul,” he pointed out the pretty and bird like boys. “But Stu is from Scotland. You’re American, though, aren’t you?”

It was my turn to nod.

“Yup. South Dakota, born and raised. I go to school here, though.”

We talked a lot that evening, and it ended with us parting at nearly three in the morning, and him giving me his landline number.

* * *

“I think I made a friend,” I informed Sandra as we settled in her aunt and uncle’s guestroom for the night.

She looked at me with a smirk.

“Yank, you’re going to be more than friends, I guarantee it.”

We were silent for a few moments, before I asked her a question that had been bothering me since I learned of the other Alice.

“What’s your Alice like?”

Sandra hummed a bit before giving me an answer.

“She’s… polite, around parents and teachers and such,” she said slowly, as if she were still figuring out the answer in her mind. “But when it’s just us, she get’s strange. She’s not incredibly nice.”

“Why are you friends with her?”

A snort.

“With Yank? She helps me when I really need it, but she does things for her own gain, in the end. I dunno why we ended up as friends, but to be honest, I wouldn’t mind if you stayed instead of her.” She paused. “Does it make me a terrible person to think that?

I shook my head before remembering she couldn’t see me through the darkness.

“Nah. I’m just a little worried about my time. If she took my place, she could be screwing my life up more than it already is.” I sighed a bit and fingered the edge of the quilt that was draped across me. “I mean, what if I go back and she’s done something to get me into a heap of trouble?”

There was no reply for a moment.

“What if you never go back, though? I mean, I know you probably miss your parents terribly – my Alice doesn’t miss hers – but if you’re stuck here, you don’t have to deal with the consequences.”

I thought about that before asking, “Why doesn’t your Alice miss her parents?”

“Dunno. She’s fairly apathetic, though, so that could be a factor.” She rolled over in bed. “It’s nearly four in the morning, let’s try and get some sleep, yeah?”

“Okay,” I said with a small yawn, and soon I drifted off.


	4. Do You Want To Know a Secret?

We headed back to London at about ten in the morning, taking a train. Sandra would ask me questions about the future, and I tried my best to answer them quietly.

“What are the cars like?”

“Uh, mostly the same. Just, you know, safer, I guess.” I’m not necessarily a car person.

“Alright, what about fashion? Or music, I suppose that’s changed?”

I nodded, a little amused at her curiosity. Hey, if someone came to me from the future, I’d want to know everything as well.

“Yeah. Girls wear pants a lot more. Um, I guess it’s more casual?” I thought about her other question for a moment. “The music is really different. It has a lot of electronic noises and stuff. I dunno, I’m bad at explaining things, sorry.”

She shrugged.

“It’s alright. I suspect you’re still a little overwhelmed at all of this.”

I stifled a laugh.

“Now that’s an understatement.” I said with a slight snort. “I mean it’s not everyday that you time travel, you know? But still, it’s pretty cool.”

Sandra shot me a grin.

“And I’m sure the boy from last night is a nice bonus to the whole ordeal, correct?” I gave her a mock glare, and she smirked. “I knew it.”

* * *

 

It was still weird to enter the apartment (or flat, or whatever) that now belonged to me. It was even weirder to find that someone was already inside.

“Sandy? That you?” someone called out, and I froze, the door still open. A figure with long blonde hair stood with their back to me, and when they turned around, I gave a small squeak of surprise.

“The hell?” The figure – who appeared to be a carbon copy of me – blurted out. She studied me with a wary expression. “Who are you?”

“I, I’m Alice. Alice Harper,” I managed to say, still unnerve at seeing this person who was identical to me in nearly every way. Up close, I noticed a few minor differences – her eyes were a little more blue than mine, and she had a small mole on her chin whereas I did not.

She frowned.

“This is weird. I’m Alice, as well. Alice Carver, though my first name is Wendy. Might I ask why you’re hear?” I could only blink in shock, my mouth gaping open like a fish. She rolled her eyes and snapped her fingers in front of my face.

“I don’t know how I got here – well, I took a train from Liverpool – but I mean, I’m from the future.” The other Alice paused, watching me. Her face was guarded, and I had no idea what she was thinking. “2013, to be a bit more specific. And, I thought you weren’t here.”

The other blonde snorted derisively, and flipped her hair over her shoulder, a motion I knew I would never make.

“I wasn’t here, not for a couple of days. I was planning on leaving.” She paused and looked at me. “Hm. I suppose if you’re from the future, we could be related, you know.”

I hadn’t actually thought of that, but I supposed it made some sense. I did have a grandmother Wendy who died when I was just a baby.

“Can I,” I licked my dry lips, “can I ask why you were gone. Or,” I added upon seeing a suitcase full of clothing and toiletries at her feet, “why you’re leaving.”

She cast her bag a glance, then turned back to me, a slight frown on her lips.

“I’m quitting school. My boyfriend and I are leaving to get married – everyone disapproves of him, to some degree, especially my parents.” She said the word _parents_ as if it were something utterly disgusting. “They don’t understand me, they never did. Did you ever wonder why a sixteen year old girl was living by herself in London.”

“Uh, Sandra, she said you were a genius, or something.”

Other Alice gave a snort of laughter.

“Oh, she did, did she? Did she also mention that I don’t even want to be here, and the only reason I came was because it meant getting away from my idiotic parents?” I shook my head wordlessly. “David – my boyfriend, if you were wondering – is almost as smart as me, but he got in a bad place for a while. He’s good now, clean for a whole year, but apparently my parents won’t let me marry him. So,” she continued, and did that stupid hair flip thing again, “we decided to make ourselves some fake ID’s and get the hell out of Doge, so to speak. We were planning on settling down in South Dakota.”

In my surprise, I made a noise like a strangled cat, and Alice startled a bit, looking at me like I belonged in the loony bin. Well, after this whole ordeal, I probably did, but that was well beside the point.

“I’m from South Dakota!” I exclaimed. “By any chance, is your boyfriend’s last name Campbell, or he changed it to Campbell?”

Alice narrowed her eyes, studying my face. Gah, I whish she would stop looking at me, it’s so creepy.

“Yes,” she said cautiously. “Why? What does it matter to you?”

“That’s my mother’s maiden name,” I explained. “I guess that means we really are related. You’re my grandmother.” I gave her an awkward look. “Which is weird, considering we’re currently the same age.”

Alice looked to be considering something, before her face broke out into a grin. It looked odd to see her expressions on my face, because we seemed to be incredibly different. Sandra was right in describing her as an apathetic person.

“You’ll stay here,” she said finally, and I frowned in confusion. She continued, “You’ll stay here, and I’ll go with David, it’ll work out perfectly. No one will report me missing, and my parents won’t be able to stop me from eloping.”

“I-“ I tried to interrupt her, but she either was ignoring me, or didn’t hear me.

“Ah, it’ll be splendid. No one will think I’m me if you’re me.”

It was about then that I realized that Wendy Alice Carver is as nutty as bat.

She left after a few minutes, and I simply sat at the small kitchen table, thinking, when the rotary phone on the counter interrupted my thoughts with a shrill ring.

“Ah, hello?” I said, still slightly distracted.

“Hello, Alice,” the voice on the other line greeted me, and I felt a bit of pleasure upon hearing George’s voice.

“Hi, George,” I said. “I’m glad you didn’t lose my number,” I gave a small chuckle, and felt like I was dying inside. Why did I have to be so socially awkward?

He laughed, and it was such a deep, throaty laugh. I felt myself grow a little warm at the melodious sound.

“The lads and I were coming into London this coming Friday,” he informed me. “John has Cyn, and Paul’s bringing Dot, and I dunno who Stu’s bringing, but it’ll be really gear, and, um, would you like to come with us?”

Had I just been asked out on a date? Psh, no, why would anyone want to take me out, especially this gorgeous British guy.

“I, uh, yeah, sure,” I managed, and I could imagine the bright grin that George would have on his face, and it made me smile at the thought. “I’d love that.”

“Right,” George said. “Alright then, I’ll be seeing you Friday night.” There was a slight pause before he asked me, “Do you mind giving me your flat address?”

It took me a little while, but I remembered the flat’s address was listed on the papers that the other Alice had left here for me, and I rattled it off to him.

We said our goodbyes, and after I hung up, I sat down on the floor with my back pressed up against the wall. This was certainly going to be an interesting time.


End file.
